A Drunken Silence
by ch4osquell
Summary: The events of this story take place on the train ride to the Capitol in Catching Fire, For the seventy-five annual Hunger Games. This is my first fanfic ever- Don't bite. Rated M for lemons. Enjoy!


I wake up half-conscious, rather dizzy. I estimate it's an hour past Dawn. I rub my eyes, uncover myself from the sheets and bring my legs around without standing up. I look over with suspect, the room looks familiar; then I remember where I am. I get up and walk towards the bathroom. Feeling thirsty, I open the tap and put my mouth to it as it flows and pours the chill, fine water into my mouth. When I'm satisfied, I start washing my face for several times, until I realize water is hopeless, it won't wash away the images my mind created last night while I was sleeping. When I close the tap, I wipe my face with one of the expensive-looking towels folded on the shelf and begging to be used. Oh, well, lately I've been used to such luxury; aren't I the female victor of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games?

For a while I sit on the couch and just stare at the ground, trying to remember what exactly has happened last night. I see very few things; like bits of my usual nightmares, Haymitch telling me to 'stay alive', Peeta. Did I dream of Peeta? The problem is I can hardly remember, it must be the effect of insomnia. My head starts aching badly and I press both hands on the sides of my skull and shut my eyes tight. The next thing I know is I'm wandering around the chamber, stumbling on various objects. Now I'm compressing both sides of my head with my fists, then I remember. Peeta was here. Last night, he was here, with me. We were lying in bed. This is the only thing I manage to extract off of my memory, but I'm certain it did happen.

So, Peeta was here and I was not dreaming. But why isn't he still here? Did he tell me goodnight and excuse himself? Or did I... Wait. I now remember. I yelled at him, I can't recall the exact words, but I think I even shoved him. I don't even have time to wonder why I did it when the train stop. I rush to take a look from the window with worry. This can't be our destination, I'm not prepared, we can't be in the Capitol already. I open the curtains and feel relieved to find we're not there, the train just stopped for oil. Determined to leave this mess of a place, I drag myself outside my car and, through Haymitch's, I arrive to Peeta's. I immediately look at his bed but find no one, and right when I'm about to panic, I find him lying on the couch; one leg settling on the ground and the other buried under the pillow. He's asleep, but his eyes show more grief than tiredness, I can tell even when they're shut. I feel proud I know the Boy with the Bread more than anyone else.

I must've been too busy staring at his closed eyes to see the bottle in his hand, hanging from the edge of the couch. I flinch, loud enough to wake everyone else. I consider shaking Peeta, awakening him, making sure he's alive. Instead, I calm myself, steal the bottle off his hand and throw it in the trashcan. "It's just liquor, Katniss," I tell myself. But the bottle was almost empty, which is causing my heart to palpitate; until I'm convinced he's all right, judging by his quiet breath. I sit on his bed and force myself to breathe easy, but it's no use. I don't know why I'm acting so overwhelmingly about something that simple, or maybe not so simple, I don't know. I close my eyes and try to clear my thoughts. "It's just liquor," I repeat, though just the thought of Peeta being drunk aches my heart.

I stare at Peeta's muscular arms and well-built chest, I realize that such a strong body might not necessarily match the same level of strength he has inside. I know Peeta, he would never drink, the cause must be quite powerful. I'm the cause. I wish I wasn't. His face suggests he's been crying as well; I start biting off my nails. I usually have trouble hiding my nervousness, good thing I don't have to at the moment. I bite harder and I let a few tears fall from my eyes. Emotionless tears, not the loud, red-eye, red-nose kind. I decide I can't keep this on, I'm too weak to see him sad. Just when I get on my feet to wake him, he opens his eyes. Those blue eyes I get lost in every time; they don't look phased by any of this, in fact they look a tad bit nicer, with a vivid ray of sunlight setting on them. Perfect. He looks at me then looks away. "How long have you been here?" He asks in a tone that does not suggest he cares to hear my reply. I take the chance and wipe the teardrops. "A while," I say. I watch as he stretches his arms, still on the couch, then he half-sits half-lies.

"I.. didn't know-" I begin.

"No, just drop it." He massages his forehead with one hand.

We sit there as silence flows in the air. One minute, two, three. "Say something," I snap, a little louder than I intended.

"You're the one that's supposed to say something," he says coldly, fixing his sight on the lamp above.

"Last night- I didn't mean..." I try to form the words.

"Katniss," He looks right into my eyes. "Tell me if you still want me to be with you, okay? Because I'm done waiting on you."

I look away. "I haven't really thought about it, I don't-"

"Do you?" He runs his fingers through the the couch's feather in anticipation, still looking at me.

A few seconds pass and "I might" is all I say.

"You might." He mutters standing up, then slowly walks towards the door. I try to catch up with him as he's about to leave the car. "Peeta, wait," I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Take your fucking hands off me," He pushes my hand away roughly, then walks out leaving the door open.

I swallow, let the sentence sink in. This is the first insult Peeta's ever directed at. The sudden realization of losing my thoughts hits me and all I can think of now is that he hates me, more than anything else.

I don't really know why I said that, though- Maybe I didn't wanna sound too desperate. Maybe I really did not need Peeta, or maybe it was the clingy bit of pride that keeps nagging inside my head.

I leave the car and head to Haymitch's to discipline him, for allowing Peeta to have one- who knows how many else of his bottles.

I open the door as forcibly as I can, pull away the curtains and yell, "Wake up, drunkass!" I sit on the chair beside his bed.

"Hey, hey, hey. Manners, young lady." He says rubbing his eyes, I can see his knife as he randomly runs his fingers through it.

"No, how could you possibly let him?" I kind of yell.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he shakes his head.

"The bottle, Haymitch! Act like you don't know?" It takes all the patience I have not to punch him.

"Oh, the bottle, right." He chuckles. "Bet that was his first, wasn't it? Man, he had a hard time deciding whether to take it or not." Now he's laughing loudly.

"So this is what you plan to do, isn't it?" I cross my arms.

"What?" He mumbles.

"Turning Peeta into some miserable, hopeless man like yourself. Making him suffer so you wouldn't feel as bad about yourself." I try to keep calm.

"Katniss, do you have any idea-" He begins.

"The only idea I have is that I instantly thought it was you on that couch!" I shout at him. "Peeta was drunk last night and it's all because of you!"

"Because of me? Really? Because we're romantically involved and I pushed him away?" He shouts. "Look around you, Katniss. Everyone is doing.. things for you and you're not even considering it. You're always attacking people, even when they're good to you!"

I open my mouth but no words come out.

"Did you think- Have you ever thought how bad it must feel when someone rejects you? Do you even care about the poor boy's feelings?" He looks into my eyes.

"Well, I do care." I say in a hushed voice, looking down.

"You don't! You never did, now, am I lying?" He tilts his head to find my eyes, but I still don't look at him. "Last night he came to me. Didn't say much, though I could tell he was.. grieving. I gave him the bottle and let him decide for himself, he's grown enough."

"And he chose to drink, that is irresponsible." I say.

"I don't care what you call it, Katniss. Just, for once, don't be selfish. Just give him a break. Think about it, he's had enough." He says leaving the room.

I go to the dining car and find Effie sitting at a table and Peeta standing beside a table across the car. My eyes meet Peeta's for a second then he looks away, Haymitch murmurs a few things to him as he makes his way out. I sit with Effie and eat, then go to my chamber. I let the water flow in the bathtub as I undress, looking in the mirror. Am I really that selfish? Have I been too preoccupied by my own problems to see Peeta's- the only one who was by my side during the whole thing and never left me? The first male to ever touch me in such ways? I can't even bring myself to think it. But I got to think. Maybe Haymitch is right, after all.

I get in the tub as the hot, foamy water slides up my body until it reaches my chin when I lay. I play with my braid then untangle it. It's been a while since I've paid attention to my hair, most nights it was Peeta who took care of it; playing with whilst singing me to sleep, putting my bangs away from my face every time he kissed me. I miss him. All these days I've been using him as my guardian, my protection shield against the nightmares. But what about his own nightmares? Suddenly I hate myself, for abandoning him, for how he cares about me more than I do, or even show. Poor Peeta, he's been a mess and I couldn't even see.

When I get out of the tub and dry myself out, it's twilight, I've been in there for quite a while, then. I put on pants and a shirt, blow-dry my hair and let it down. I go to the dining room, Effie is the only one I see, posited the same way she was earlier today.

"Where are they?" I ask as I grab a glass of orange juice.

"Well, Haymitch is in his room and Peeta said he was going out for some air." She says.

"Right." I think I know where Peeta is. I go out to seek him but find the last room's -the one that's half-covered half-exposed- door locked. As I walk away, I hear a sound, something like a slam or a crush. I turn around right away and mindlessly start pushing the door, turning the handle shakily. "Peeta!" I scream. My head automatically starts making assumptions and I'm so terrified that I can't even make a sound anymore. "Pe-" I half-scream as the door opens wide, forcing me into the room.

There, on the floor, Peeta lies on his stomach. Motionless. Holding a half-filled bottle of liquor. I stand without a word, staring, until my mind absorbs all of it. I move to where Peeta is and kneel. "Peeta." I tilt my head as a tear easily falls. "Go away," he bites his tongue, clinging to the bottle.

"No, give me that!" I seize the bottle from his hand, trying to remain steady.

"Katniss." He looks into my eyes, dead serious. Suddenly I'm scared.

"No, you're not having it. Are you out of your mind?" I try to sound as firm as possible, but my tears fail me.

"Why is that? Because it's bad for me? Give me the bottle, Katniss. I'm screwed any way." he gets up slowly, his legs fail to carry his strong body, so he ends up half-sitting, half-lying. "Stop trying to control me."

"I am not controlling you, Peeta, it's just-"

"It's just your little heart can't seem to cope with it, I get it, I see." He looks down. A while passes before he says "You're selfish, you know that?"

I do.

"You feel bad when you see things you can't handle so you want to stop them no matter what, like no one even matters." The rasp in his voice and the pain that's crawling in his throat are making me lose my mind.

"It's not about me, it's about you! You can't just-" I begin.

"It's all about you, Katniss!" He shouts. "It's all about you." He takes a sip.

I force myself up and take his hand in an attempt of bringing him to his feet, it doesn't work. I try several times before I give up- carrying a drunk body is harder than I'd imagined. I did carry Haymitch once, but Peeta helped me, now there's no one. No one! I should get help, how did I not think of this?

"Peeta, you stay right here and I'll go find Haymitch, don't move, okay? Peeta? Do you hear me?" I can't hold back the panic but I manage to speak as clearly as possible, he does not bother saying anything.

I steal myself and run towards the door, then the small corridor, then Haymitch's car. I find no one. I run back to the last car and find myself crying out Haymitch's name in all kinds of tones, until I run into him.

"Jesus, Katniss, what the hell?" He says wiping his bleeding nose.

"Haymitch, thank God." I gasp. "Please, I need your help... Peeta..." I stop talking to catch my breath.

"Damn, woman. Leave the guy alone." He passes me by.

"No, no. Wait, please! He's never been like this before and, and-" I follow him along the corridor.

"And what, Katniss? 'Til when? He is a grown man, he knows how to deal with this, you just need to leave him."

"Please." I beg.

He stops then makes faces that indicate he's considering it. "No." Our eyes meet before he walks away.

Hopelessly, I go back to the car, I stand at the door. Peeta's still in the same position, the bottle is a few gulps away from being finished over now.

"What, your little problem-solver couldn't show up?" He says sarcastically, smiling.

"Peeta," I say calmly.

"No." He lowers his tone.

"Just get up," I whisper.

"No." He insists.

"Come on, I'll help you," I remain calm.

"Why?" He looks at me.

"Because you've helped me before," I say in a hushed voice, fixing my gaze onto the bottle. While silence takes over the atmosphere, I think of something good to say. "I must help you."

"You don't give a shit about me." He looks at me in disgust.

There. After everything, he denies my affections. With just one sentence. But I can't help but forgive him,

not because he's drunk... because I love him.

I am the reason Peeta Mellark is getting himself wasted tonight. It's all because of me. He is right, it's all about me, I've been too blind to admit my selfishness, my stupid, ugly behavior. And suddenly, all of the fear I was feeling a second ago has faded. All I can feel now is regret. If I could only apologize to my boy- no, he's not my boy. I'm done being selfish.

He stands up and makes his way out of the room, reeling. Just as he's about to go out, I clutch his shoulder. "Peeta," I'm still dozing off into the empty space that's now filled with the absence of the liquor bottle before he had gotten up.

He leans against the door's wall, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the bottle still. Small pieces of his messy hair land on his forehead as he lowers his head, looking at the ground.

I know he won't drink. No more. He wouldn't- My eyes widen as he puts the bottle to his mouth and starts taking gulps from it so fast, without a breath break, like he's never drunk anything before. My heart sinks. The bottle is officially empty right now, yet he's still holding it. I glare at him, making sure he sees every bit of rage I have toward him right now. "Fine" I say. "Drink, you bastard." I hit him on his head. "Drink, you worthless piece of shit!" I shout out. He looks down, shakily moving his head. "This is what you're good at, hurting yourself, and nothing else. This is what makes me hate you, do you hear me? I ha-" "Fuck you! Fuck you and all your hate, I don't give a shit." He snaps back. I am very furious but I manage to find my way back to calmness. I extend my right arm to hold his left and start lingering my fingers on his palm. The space between us is narrow now. I take his chin in my free hand, lift it up, he keeps his sight down as I stare at his features. His chapped, dried-out lips, his seemingly-cold nose, the bags under his eyes and the hair on his forehead. Every little bit in his face makes me want to kiss him, to heal it all, to taste him, to taste his pain and split it between us, take his half in addition to my own pain, so I could feel more pain than he does. It's not long before he meets my sight. I can see through his bloodshot eyes. The madness, the anger, the grief, everything. We stare into one another's eyes in complete silence, ruined by the sound of both his breath and mine. I lose myself in his eyes, I feel like I am in a complete different world, a world that makes me so careless that it's fine if we don't talk, or are in a fight. It's fine as long as I can take care of him, even for a short while, like now. Peeta makes a sound between a cough and a hiccup. I want to tell Peeta I love him. I open my mouth. Before I could say anything, Peeta crashes his lips against mine and I feel his lips, wetting them with my tongue. My palms are filled with sweat and I can feel the blood running through my veins ten times faster, I shiver. He instantly slams me against the wall and opens his mouth as our tongues start to play together, rolling inside either his or my mouth. I moan. We stop to catch our breaths and get back to each other as fast as hungry wolves running to catch their prey. I've heard about Lust, but this is the first time I experience it, and it feels even better than I'd imagined. Peeta groans, I moan back loudly, they might hear us, but I don't care, the pleasure is so good I can't even think anymore. We catch our breaths again but this time I grab his lower lip with my teeth, I bite it hard as I lean back; Peeta throws the bottle away and it hits the ground loudly, he wraps his arms around my waist whilst stretching his tongue desperately, seeking mine. As I give it out easily, we let our tongues lead us, dictate our movement, and it looks like they both have no intention of stopping. As insanely good as this feels, we both know that we want more. Peeta swiftly lifts my top upwards, trying to take it off without separating our mouths. I help him out and he succeeds, leaving me with only my bra on. He then, still not breaking up the kiss, slowly takes my pants off. I'm almost naked now and he's still fully covered, unfair. I break up the kiss to take his shirt off, he then wraps his arms around me gently lays me on the floor. While he's on top of me, he starts sucking the saliva off my tongue and it feels crazy. I let out frequent moans as I slip my hand underneath and release his belt then unzip his pants. I let my hand slide between the heaviness of his body against mine and feel his manhood. He groans immediately, which makes me want him more badly. He lifts himself off of me and all I can hear is the heavy breaths both of us are trying to take before we move to the next step. Peeta goes back to kissing my mouth, then slowly kisses his way down to my chest, he gently takes off my bra and takes my beasts in his mouth, the hunger that seems to take over him makes me nuts. He doesn't look satisfied enough but he continues to kiss his way down, reaching my stomach, the lower part of it, then my private part. Right then, when his lips touch my area for the very first second, I don't just moan, I scream in pleasure, "Peeta!" He groans, never stopping, I am as wet as a sponge that's just been dipped into the water. Peeta holds the edge of my panties and I involuntary lift my body as a response to the tickling it causes. He pulls the panties slowly along my legs, then my feet, then throws them away. He quickly goes back to my area, only not kissing this time, but licking. He licks my clitoris all the way up and then back down. He then begins to suck my clit and I start moaning non-stop. I never thought about it but he is way better at this than I would have guessed. I arch my body whilst screaming his name, he stops for a second and looks up at me. "Tonight you're mine." He whispers with a blank expression. Right then, I realize I need more than this. "I always were," I barely finish the sentence because what he is doing right now is some madness I can't seem to handle. I squeeze my eyes shut as Peeta spreads my legs wide open and starts licking me all over again. It's when he adds his fingers to the mix that I get up and start kissing his neck, the only thing that's close enough to my mouth. I don't know much, but the only thing I am certain I know right now is that I want Peeta, I want him so bad. I want every bit of him. I slide my tongue along his bare skin until I reach his area. He's not taken his pants off yet, but he's unzipped. I grasp his manhood and enjoy the groans he makes. I pulls his pants down to his knees with my free hand and start playing with his manhood. It feels heavy and muscular and extremely hard. It's big, very. And it seems so powerful I can't not express my lust. "Peeta," I say quietly, he groans a bit louder. "I want you..." I start touching new places on purpose, his moans are very seductive. "I want you inside me." I continue playing, but not for long, he catches his breath heavily and cuts me off by pushing me on the floor and climbing upon me. He doesn't even bother taking his boxers off as he flips his manhood out of them and, for the first time, for a split second, I see it. Not big, huge. Harder than a stone as it hits my vagina. Before I can even respond, Peeta pushes it inside me, just like I begged. I am paralyzed. All I can do is scream, but screaming won't help. The pain came in a rush I couldn't absorb. I scream my head off, no use. I grab the closest thing I find- a small, cotton-stuffed pillow- and bury my teeth in its softness, and as deep as I go, Peeta goes deeper. I can't even catch my breath and ask him to stop, he is way too far in me now. Silly me, I thought our cuddles at night were the closest we'll ever be. Seconds later, the pain starts to fade and the pleasure takes in. I start moaning regularly as Peeta goes in and out, in and out, and so on. With every breath that I take, I manage to say a word or two in one syllable. Words that drive him mad, words like "deeper" and "don't stop." At some point, Peeta moans louder than ever, causing me to vibrate. I think that's what they call an orgasm. He starts cumming, right at my clit.

It is the first time of everything. The first time we go this far of course, and the first time I see Peeta like that. Not all cute and innocent- but a grown, tough man.

When he's done, he tiredly puts his face to my chest. We take our breathes slowly, in silence. I pull my arms from under "our" body and land it on his head. We just lay there for a few moments until Peeta finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry." He says with a tired voice. I can feel the warmth of his tears as they flow on my chest.

I hush him down and let my fingers run freely through his hair, as I stare into the blank ceiling. "Is it true?" I sound like I'm whispering, but it's really the tension effect.

The silence my question causes makes me wish I never spoke.

"What is?" The same raspy, deep voice of his comes out.

"That you despise me,"

"You know," he says after a relatively long pause.

"Know what?" I freeze.

"That I would follow you into the grave."


End file.
